Truth or Dare
by Jennifer Jolie
Summary: Whether life's just a game or not, even games have consequences. Life comprises of the choices you make: how you use your abilities, who you give your heart to... So truth, or dare? Ororo, Jean, Logan, Scott and cameos.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **So I fell in love with X-Men and comics all over again and banged out this. Powerless is not on hiatus, and depending on what kind of mood I'm in this week I could pick it up again...

Meanwhile, this is the continuation to Truth or Dare by MultiFandomSF, nine years later, so you'll probably want to read that first – it's _excellent._ With this, I'm going for a more comic book-feel from Ororo's point of view, with less prose padding the dialogue and action. The basic premise is, what would happen if the X-Men didn't act with responsibility and discretion? There would be consequences, that's what. Get ready to see the characters (Jean, Ororo, Logan, Scott, Xavier... Magneto and more to come) developed a little differently, and there is an impending plot. Enough said; read (and review) away!

--

Truth or Dare

Chapter One: Jean's Birthday

Twenty-three candles on the cake. Twenty-three candles exactly. Scott had counted them, well, _countless_ times, Ororo observed wryly, and this was after he'd rushed out of the mansion in something akin to panic when he realized that the Payard had only put twenty-two candles in the box. Ororo shook her head. _Of course Scott would drive all the way back to New York City to get one matching candle, _she thought._ Everything has to be perfect._

"Everything has to be perfect," Scott muttered wildly, wiping the palms of his hands on his pants, with their perpetual line ironed straight down the center.

"Hmm?" Ororo contributed, but Scott just kept muttering to himself as he paced the room, straightening cushions, chairs, anything unfortunately enough to be in his path. It was just as well he'd begun preparations for Jean's birthday celebration more than three hours before he needed to.

It was a surprise party. Jean had been somewhat unconvincingly told it was just an informal gathering.

"I'll call her," Logan had offered.

"Why?" demanded Scott.

"Because you can't lie to save your life, boy scout. Not even over the phone."

"Oh? What're you going to say?"

"Only as much as I have to. Date, time, place." Logan rolled his eyes. "She knows her own birthday, one-eye. I think she can work out the rest from there, though I guess it could be challenging for you if you were in her place, couldn't it?"

"I could call her, Logan," Ororo had offered.

Scott and Logan had exchanged a look before they both burst out laughing.

And so she'd laughed too – but only weakly.

And now the day had come. The doorbell rang. Before anyone could get to it, the locks clicked open by themselves and Jean burst in, grinning from ear to ear.

"'Ro!" Jean squealed, hugging Ororo, even as the other woman winced. _Always thought that was a silly nickname. It sounded effete._ She hoped Jean hadn't picked that up, or the thought that Jean might pick that up, or... Ororo bit her lip. Why did she always feel like this around Jean?

Jean, a regular ray of sunshine as usual. Today she was wearing her white lab coat, usually pristine, but today doodled over in bright marker ink.

"What's all this? That famous already?" Ororo joked, tugging at a sleeve.

"Oh, yesterday while we were waiting for the gels to run we all sat down and signed one another's coats for no reason at all. Just one term left to graduation!" Jean twirled, making the colors spin. Ororo envied how even a vandalized lab coat could look good on Jean. "And in a few years _my_ signature will be worth something, I can tell you."

"Youngest person I know to finish med school," Scott said, proudly kissing her on the cheek.

"With a double concentration in biomedics and genetic mutations, don't forget." Jean brushed him off impatiently. "Did anyone else remember my birthday?"

Scott's face fell with dismay at how easily his ruse had been seen through, but he reached for Jean's bags to carry them in.

"Missed me, Red?"

Logan was leaning carelessly against the wall, arms folded. Ororo felt her pulse quicken...

"Logan!" Jean ran over and hugged him tightly, almost disappearing into his embrace. Pausing in his labors, Scott frowned. Ororo realized that she was frowning too.

"Well, well, well." Charles Xavier wheeled into the room. "If it isn't my four favorite students."

"Your four _only_ students," Ororo reminded him, peevishly, but no one seemed to hear.

"It's so good to see you again, Professor," Jean enthused, bending down to hug him too. "I have so much to tell you. I think I'm beginning to perceive - "

"Wouldn't we all be more comfortable in the dining room? It's so drafty here," Ororo put in.

Jean rolled her eyes. "O_kay_, 'Ro, if you insist." She began pushing Xavier's chair, being the only person he would expressly ask to do that. "I hope the Payard wasn't out of Chocolate Flourless."

--

Cutting generous slabs of the flourless chocolate cake – Jean's favorite, they got it year after year – Ororo thought over the years thus far.

_I'm twenty-seven. Twenty-seven. Three more years, and I'll be thirty._

_Goddess, I'm going to rot here._

Not that I hate the place – far from it. Coming to Xavier's was the happiest day of my life. Meeting Jean, and Scott, and Logan... They're the only real family I've got. My dad stopped making contact with me after my eighteenth birthday – he probably can't even afford a phone anymore, whatever he's doing. He never wanted me, especially after he found out I was one of _those_ –

A mutant.

A freak.

The reason why, whenever I was sad or angry, storms gathered over their house and destroyed his garden...

But here I learned that my powers aren't a curse, they're a gift, albeit a gift that has its own cards to play. When I saw Jean lift that first spoon without touching it... How I hoped my own abilities would develop to the point that they came under my control.

"'Ro!" Jean said sharply, causing Ororo to snap out of her thoughts. "I said, watch."

"We're all watching now," Logan said, seriously. "Come on, show us what you've got."

Jean giggled, winked at him, and then pointed to the five slices of cake on their individual plates. "Are you watching these carefully?"

"Are you going to eat them all telepathically or something?" said Ororo.

"Better." Jean adjusted her posture. "Watch."

She stared straight at the original cake. About a third of it was left on its platter. Without breaking her gaze, the five smaller slices slowly rose up in the air and fitted together onto their original positions on the platter.

Scott applauded politely, but Logan complained, "You've done this before, Jeannie. What's so great about it?"

Jean didn't answer. She shifted her gaze until she seemed to be staring _into_ the cake. And the cake – Ororo blinked. It couldn't be...?

Jean picked up the cake knife and tapped the chocolate shell of the cake gingerly. It was completely smooth, as though it had never been cut.

"Impressive," said Xavier, chuckling. "But if you've melted and fused the molecules together, Jean, I'm not going to put it into my mouth."

"See for yourself," Jean beamed. She cut a slice and handed it to him. It was perfect.

Ororo sighed. "Now I'm going to have to cut the cake all over again."

"No need, I'll do it," Jean said cheerfully. Opting for the normal approach, she picked up the plastic knife and set to work. "My piece was a little much for me to finish anyway."

"But this is your favourite," Scott said worriedly, as he got out a bottle of white wine.

"Need to watch my waist," Jean said, handing him a slice. Underneath the labcoat she had on a light spring dress, taken in perfectly at the waist, showing no signs that it needed any watching. "The saddest thing I learned at med school. Cake, Ororo?"

--

Med school, that's right. Xavier's Institute For Gifted Youngsters wasn't on anyone's list, and the professor himself was strictly opposed to standardized testing, except for a few specially devised tests of his own, that had shown Jean to have an IQ of over 130.

When she'd expressed an interest in biology he called a couple of friends who called a couple of friends, and a few years later Jean's well on her way to holding an Ivy League degree. While Ororo takes courses on useless subjects (various unrelated pockets of history) that Xavier disapproves of, and will land her on the street living alone in a cardboard box someday.

While Jean shares a room with Scott every time she comes home, and the professor doesn't bat an eye, so it's only a matter of time before they get married, and maybe even move out...

Ororo looked morosely at the now-discarded birthday candles, flecked with chocolate cream, lying on their side in a napkin.

_Get a grip on yourself, Ororo. _

_You're twenty-seven._

Scott got to his feet. "I'll wash up," he said, collecting plates.

"I'll come with you," said Xavier, wheeling away from the table. This is a sign that he has something private to discuss with Fearless Leader, as they have dubbed Scott; the group let it pass without comment.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Jean leaned forward over to Logan and Ororo and whispered, "Wanna see something really cool?"

Logan threw her a rakish grin. He'd declined the wine for his own case of Canadian stout, and he was beginning to get comfortable. "Really, Jean? With Ororo here watching?"

Ororo blushed furiously. Jean giggled. "Ororo's okay. It's the professor who musn't see yet."

"And Scott?"

Jean snorted. "He'd only get jumpy too. I'll show them later, but you'll appreciate it better. Watch."

She held up one remaining candle between two fingers and stared intently. For a minute, nothing happened.

"Red -" Logan began, but Ororo shushed him. Something about Jean was ever so slightly different, the expression on her face, or even the color of her eyes...

With a faint, faint hissing sound, like sand trickling down an hourglass, the candle slowly began to disappear, as if being burned from the top down.

"No tricks, ladies and gentlemen," said Jean, still concentrating on the candle, "it has vanished before your very ey- ow!" She dropped the remaining stub of the candle. "Are my fingers still there?"

Her fingertips were bright red, as if burned. "Yeah," Ororo said, "are you okay?"

Jean nodded. "My hand's a little numb, that all. Not the first time that's happened. That's why I can't show the professor just yet." Her eyes sparkled. "But it was great, wasn't it?"

"I'm still waiting for the main show," Logan said, grinning.

Jean giggled again, taking a sip of her third glass of wine. "I know, I'm such a tease!"

_Jean and Logan...? What the hell is going on?_ Actually, it didn't surprise her. They were just old friends, having fun...

So why do I feel so damn uncomfortable being around them, suddenly?

And why am I letting that bother me more than seeing Jean _disintegrate_ something just by _thinking_ about it?

--

Please take just one second to review; it really helps me write! Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you everyone who reviewed! It's after 3:24 as I post this and it's REVIEWS that keep me up, so if you liked or had any thoughts about it PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! (: The plot thickens...

P.S. A friendly reminder that this is a continuation of Truth Or Dare by MultifandomSF, who likes reviews too. (:

--

The car door slammed and Jean's car pulled away into the night. Logan and Ororo stood by the French windows at the front of the Mansion watching the red backlights of the car melt away into the distance. Neither of them said anything for a while.

"Trees look good for November," Logan finally said, gruffly. "All green."

It sounded absurd, seeing as it was almost pitch-dark outside, but it didn't matter. "It's been warm for fall," Ororo replied.

They were quiet again.

"Know what it reminds me of?"

Ororo hid a smile. "Canada?"

Logan chuckled. "Yeah, but no, not just Canada. Alkali Lake."

"Oh, yeah..."

"You don't remember."

"No, I do. We took turns driving..."

Logan smiled. "R.E.M. was on the radio..."

"We pitched two tents and made a campfire..."

"Scott dropped twenty-two marmallows into the fire...

"We played Truth or Dare..." Ororo let her voice trail off, waiting for Logan to pick up the train, but he didn't. Instead, he folded his arms and looked thoughtful.

"It was someone's birthday, wasn't it? That's why we were allowed out overnight."

"Mine," said Ororo, recalling. "Seventeenth."

"More than nine years ago... You asked for Dare, didn't you? What was it again?"

Ororo shivered. "I don't remember," she lied. "Something stupid."

_Thank goddess he doesn't seem to remember._

Logan looked thoughtful again. "It was nice out there." He smirked. "Jean was in a cute little one-piece."

_I was wearing a _two_-piece, _thought Ororo savagely, but she held her tongue. "What did you think of what Jean mentioned at dinner?"

Logan immediately lost interest. "About hearing the alien voices or something like that?"

"Sounds implausible, doesn't it?" Ororo sat down on the windowsill.

Logan shrugged. "Jeanie knows what she's talking about. If she says it ain't coming from earth, then it ain't."

Ororo leaned forward. "But Logan, surely you can't believe-"

He turned and looked her squarely in the eye. Ororo felt her heart suddenly pound against her chest... "Do _you_ think Jean's faking?"

"Well..." Ororo dropped her gaze. "She hasn't had a breakthrough in years..."

"Did you even _notice_ what she did to that candle? It was _gone._"

Ignoring him, Ororo pressed on. "She's twenty-three, twelve years of developing her powers and counting. Most days she's still levitating paper clips!"

"So are _we_, in terms of what we _can_ do." Logan rolled his eyes, mouthing the word _Professor_. "When was the last time he let you stop the rain?"

"When was the last time he let you drag in a dead rabbit with your teeth? It's like Professor X always says, changing the weather can bring on global meteorological apocalypse-"

"Storm," Logan said firmly. Ororo blinked; almost no one used that name anymore, that name she would someday take as her real name. She felt a blush rising to her cheeks. "Storm, controlling the weather is what you were born to do. It ain't right for him to... that we listen to him..." He cleared his throat. "It just ain't right."

A pause. Then Ororo continued, as if she had never been interrupted,

"Jean thought she'd be doing open-heart surgery just by _thinking about it_ by now." She pursed her lips. "Open-heart surgery _halfway across the world._"

"Do you," Logan said, "believe Jean's faking."

Ororo looked away again. "You know Jean's always been _advanced_, and she's accustomed to success..."

"Are you two fighting or something?"

"We're best friends," Ororo said, exasperated.

Logan was silent for a moment, then said, "Truth?"

Ororo licked her lips and raised an eyebrow at him. "Truth." She paused. "Dare?"

Logan nodded.

"Accuse Jean of faking. Confront her about it. Spill."

A slow, wicked grin spread across Logan's face. "Okay. The very next time I see her."

He turned and walked out, leaving Ororo alone staring out over the darkened grounds.

--

Jean knew, as soon as she started out, that she should've had the headlights of her car changed before driving up to Xavier's. _Too late for that now_. The winding road was not as illuminated as she would've liked it to be, and a dense fog beginning to rise didn't help. To make matters worse, her hands weren't steady on the wheel, and from time to time her vision would tilt precariously. _How many drinks did I have...?_ No, best not to think about it.

Scott had offered to drive her back, of course, Scott would've carried her on his back and crawled on his hands and knees back into the city if she so asked, which is why she refused his offer. Scott was clingy, which was a complete turn-off. Her thoughts had wandered all afternoon...

_Hello? Jean? He-llo? Jean?_

Jean nearly let go of the wheel; as it was she almost swerved off the road. Her blood ran ice cold. Of course she didn't admit it to anyone, but telepathy frightened the daylights out of her everytime. No one understood what it was like to have a disembodied voice intrude on them. Especially the disembodied, alien voice of a little girl...

_Hello again, Wanda,_ Jean thought back, focusing as hard as she could on the words, even saying them out loud. This girl was harder to reachn than anyone she'd ever tried...

_Jean!_ She could hear a smile. _I've been trying to reach you, but your mind's been busy._

"I know, Wanda, I've had a lot going on over here." Jean broke off for a moment to squint at the road. It seemed dimmer and fuzzier than ever before. "It was my birthday today."

_Ooooh. How old are you, Jean?_

"I'm twenty-three." Then, fighting to keep her voice casual, Jean said pleasantly, "How about you, Wanda? How old are you?"

There was a hesitation. _Seventeen._

Probably closer to seven, Jean thought, privately.

"We had cake at my birthday," said Jean. "Have you had cake recently?"

_We don't have cake very often. Food is hard to grow where I live. _

"Where do you live, Wanda?"

Wanda didn't fall for that one. _There's a lot of metal where I live. All the buildings are made of metal. My daddy- my dad's very good at working with metal._

Jean thought she could hear something very faintly behind her, but she blocked it out to concentrate on making small talk with Wanda. Was it strange that she was chatting to a complete stranger? It could always be some masterfully strong telepath just posing as a young girl named Wanda. It could even be the Professor, Jean thought with a shudder. What a lecture he'd give her. Never talk to strangers...

"Was was that, Wanda?" Jean said. She was going very fast now, instinctively, because the noise behind her had been coming closer and closer and getting louder and louder...

And now the police car was so close that its sirens threw flickering, waving shadows across the road...

Jean groaned aloud and applied the brakes. She kept her hands on the steering wheel. She was terrified to find that they were shaking. Someone tapped on her window and she opened it with a hand that was still trembling.

"Could I see your license, please." The cop had no facial expression. Inscrutable.

"Certainly, officer." Jean fumbled for her wallet. Her speech wasn't that slurred, was it?

The policeman put a few greasy fingerprints on her driver's license, and then bleated, "Ma'am did you realize that you were weaving right there on the road going more than 70 miles per hour?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize there was a speed... speed limit here," Jean said quietly, trying not to sound nervous. Or drunk.

"Ma'am I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the car."

_Ask me then._ Jean bit her lip and shakily got out of the car. She could see the cop reaching for his breathalyzer test. Panic swelled within her. The road was winding round and round where she stood and the trees overhead were tumbling down, down, down...

"Holy smokes!" yelped the cop, dropping the breathalyzer and running just as the tree crashed on top of his squad car, smashing the windscreen and flattening the rest of it. "What the hell? Ma'am-"

Jean swayed, and collapsed.

"Ma'am...? Are you alright?"

Jean's eyes fluttered open. "I... I think so," she whispered, very softly so he couldn't detect the alcohol on her breath. She had a grand headache, but was otherwise fine, and would be, as long as she called her bluff well. "H-how did th-that tree...? I feel faint..."

The cop gallantly took the bait. "Do you have any people in the area I could call for you, ma'am?"

Jean nodded weakly and thumbed through her cellphone, hitting Scott's number and handing the phone over the cop. Now would be a good time for Scott to show up riding a white steed. Classes would just have to wait. Wanda would have to wait too. She scanned the scene, saving details for later.

What the cop would probably consider strange was that the tree didn't break off at a rotten section of its trunk. It was a healthy, strong tree that had just happened to be angled just right to fall on the squad car. It looked at though it had been yanked up by its mighty roots...

Jean didn't think it was strange at all. She turned her face away from sight and allowed herself a slow smile.

--

I do hope someone has some idea who Wanda is already... Finally, PLEASE REVIEW!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So it's been about a year since the last chapter... It took me a long time to find my old notes and then rework the plot – my original idea had something to do with a certain charater altering the earth's magnetosphere to transport mutants to the moon, and that wasn't half of it. I really hope to _finish _this fic so the writing's going to be quick and dirty and if I'm feeling it, I'll return to edit a bit. Thank you to all reviewers, you keep me going.

--

Ororo had to listen to the cop's bluster while Scott half-carried Jean in from the squad car. "Ma'am, I turned my back one second, and a whole gol-dang tree fell over!"

"Yes, I'm sure that must have been frightening," Ororo said, trying to sound as though she meant it. "Thank you for bringing Jean home safely. And towing her car back."

"My pleasure, ma'am. The world ain't safe these days for a little girl to be out on her own! Heck, what's this world coming to? They're signs, I'm telling you. The trees, the animals, they know. They feel it in their bones. Whole world's ending!"

"Thank you, officer, and good night," Ororo said quickly, and shut the door.

Inside, Jean was being greeted by Xavier, who looked stern.

"Jean - " he began.

"I've told you not to pry into my mind!" Jean snapped, struggling away from Scott. "So stop it!"

"I'm sensing very strong psionic waves, Jean," Xavier continued. "I'm sure that tree that fell had some assistance."

Jean stamped her foot. "So what? I didn't make it fall _on_ the cop. Maybe I should've! He was going to book me!"

"So you used your abilities to avoid getting a parking ticket?" said Xavier, with maddening superiority. "Is that how I've taught you to behave, Jean?"

Jean let out a half-scream of frustration and ran out of the room. They heard the back screen door slam.

Xavier shook his head. "Such a child, still."

"Maybe it wasn't right," Scott offered, ever ready to defend Jean, "but you were a little hard on her..."

"Hard on her? She was clearly driving irresponsibly!"

Scott was trying to remain calm. "She might not even have been speeding, you know what these cops are like..."

"Guys, let's not fight," Ororo tried to put in, "at least nothing happened to Jean, and it was probably too late for her to drive home anyway..."

While they were busy arguing among themselves, Logan slipped out the back door.

--

He found Jean sitting on the porch, kicking at pebbles in the grass. "Some birthday this is turning out to be," she grumbled, seeing Logan.

Logan cocked his head towards the door. "Was that what happened? You felled a tree just by thinking about it?"

Jean shrugged. "Yeah, it was easy."

"You sure it didn't just... fall by itself?"

"No!" Jean flared up. "I did it!"

A slow, wicked grin spread across Logan's face. "I don't believe you."

He found himself being pelted with pebbles. "Ow! Jean!"

Jean laughed caustically. "Aw, did a few little rocks hurt Wolvie? That's too bad."

"Okay, okay, I do believe you." He sat down beside her, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath his weight. "And you can... disintegrate stuff?"

"Yep." She dropped her tone confidentially. "And that's not all."

"Hmm?" He nudged her. "What else do you do, huh?"

She giggled, but turned serious. "I've been hearing these voices."

"Voices?"

"Not like crazy voices. Just one voice. I've been communicating with someone telepathically."

"Another telepath? Does the professor know?"

"No, and he doesn't need to," said Jean proudly. "Wanda and I are doing just fine without him."

"Who's Wanda?"

"The other telepath. I'd say she's about eight or nine. She seems like a nice kid."

"Seems like? You can't just read her mind and find out?"

Jean frowned. "I've tried. First of all she must be very far away, because I can't pick up the thoughts of anyone around her, telepath or otherwise. And second I can't read her mind because I don't know her. If I could see her, find out where she lives... she'd be easier to get to, but I just don't know."

Logan grinned. "So you could read my mind?"

Jean snickered. "Would you want me to?"

"Tell me what I'm thinking right now."

Jean shut her eyes and concentrated. Logan leaned over and whispered, "I'm thinking..." He kissed her on the cheek. "...that you look beautiful tonight."

Jean opened her eyes in surprise. Logan was already at the door. "Night, Red. Happy birthday."

Jean put a hand to her cheek, suddenly breathless. She could hear Scott and Xavier still arguing in the front hall. "Damn Scott," she said softly, and shivered.

--

Later that night, Ororo placed her book down on her bedside table and was ready to turn out the light when there came a soft knock on her door. Jean came in, wearing a lacy white nightgown.

"Hey," Ororo greeted her. "You're up late."

Jean sighed. "Scott and I had a fight. He won't accept that I can get myself out of trouble. He keeps trying to defend me."

"Well, that's sweet of him."

"No, it gets aggravating." Jean held up a pillow. "Can I crash in your room tonight? If I go sleep downstairs Scott will just find me and wake me up at three a.m. to apologize."

Ororo looked around. There wasn't much clear space on the floor, and Jean hadn't brought a blanket. "I suppose there's room. It'll be like old times. Remember how he used to get so mad if we went to one another's rooms at night?"

Jean rolled her eyes. "He was probably afraid there might be some _hanky-panky_ going on. He gets the most ridiculous notions into his head."

"Watch what you're saying," Ororo warned, half-seriously. "You don't want the professor finding out."

Jean huffed and rolled her eyes. "He's faking," she said. "He's not that good. He hasn't realized that I can block him out of my mind."

"How do you know?"

"Because I cheated," Jean said smugly.

Ororo paused. "You said he read your mind earlier, when you were coming in."

Jean waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, I had my guard down. I was busy fighting off Scott. And I was a little under the influence... The rest of the time, ha. I've looked into _his_ head... He isn't really worth my efforts, but he's had some interesting thoughts from time to time... Though I can't tell you, I'm afraid." She crossed her fingers mockingly. "Telepath's honor."

"How good is he?" Ororo tried to keep her thoughts from running wild. _All these years that I've lived feeling like a monkey in a cage, with my mind like an open book before him... Have I been wrong?_

Jean shrugged. "He's not too bad. I mean, he was one of the most gifted of his generation. A weaker mind would probably open right up to his prying. Aww, 'Ro," she added, seeing Ororo's face. "Listen. I'm talking about _his_ generation. Ourgeneration... we're different, you know that? He likes to pretend that we're not different. He likes to think of himself as the magnanimous, kindly old gentlemen – crippled in body, but benevolent in spirit – or whatever, he likes to call up his old friends and boast about 'his fine young pupils.' Ororo, we leave him in the dust. You realize that, don't you?"

"Yeah," Ororo said dully.

"We can do anything we want," Jean persisted. "_We're_ the ones with the power now. He can't control us anymore. You don't answer to him, okay?"

"Okay," said Ororo, not really meaning it.

Jean squeezed her hand. "I'm glad we had that little chat. I'll go find the spare mattress."

"No need," said Ororo heavily, knowing what Jean expected her to say. "You can have my bed for tonight. I'll just sleep on the couch downstairs."

"Really?" said Jean brightly. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," said Ororo, gathering up her things and not looking Jean in the eye. And suddenly she couldn't stand being on the same floor as Jean – or the professor – a moment longer.

"Don't forget to watch out for Scott," Jean giggled, as she shut the door in Ororo's face.

--

Ororo had already found three different remote controls under the sofa, but the cracks between the cushions were still digging into her back. Mostly she was still awake because she was thinking about what Jean had said. "Our generation... we're different..." _Yeah, well, easy for her to say. Moving a teaspoon is not at _all_ like calling a rainstorm. She doesn't have to think how a drought might break out in Dubai for weeks as a consequence..._

Ororo missed the soothing rhythm of the rain falling, missed the smell of wet leaves and grass first thing in the new, clear morning. It had been dry out for weeks. Turning over again on the sofa, she tried to dream of heavy clouds.

She didn't remember falling asleep, but some time later she was awakened by the sound of screaming. She sat up groggily. It had to be Jean. Already she could hear Scott's footsteps pounding down the hallway. A door was flung open. "Jean!"

Ororo plodded up the stairs, blinded by the light that came on suddenly in the hallway.

"Oh, Scott, I'm so sorry, it's just that I was having a nightmare..."

"Why are you in Ororo's room?"

"She let me sleep in here for the night..."

"Why didn't you come back into our room?" demanded Scott.

On cue, Jean started to sob. "I thought you were still angry at me..."

"Oh, no, Jean, no..." Scott enveloped her in a hug as she continued to cry. "I'm sorry, Jean, don't cry, it was just a bad dream. Don't cry..."

Logan came in, pushing Xavier's chair. "Did you start the party without us?"

"I could make some cocoa," Ororo suggested.

Jean could still be heard sniffling, "...some kind of a metal fortress, and it was full of _mutants_, Scott, other mutants like us, all of them shouting _horrible_ things, and their leader..."

Xavier looked as though he were about to say something, but at the last minute he changed his mind and turned to Ororo instead. "That won't be necessary," said Xavier. "It's late. We can discuss things in the morning. For now, we shall all go back to bed. Our _own_ beds.

"Jean," he added, "I'll speak to you in the morning."

Jean nodded shakily. They began to file out of Ororo's room. "Didn't sound like much of a nightmare to me," she heard Logan say. Groaning, she shut the door firmly before any more arguments could break out.

Feeling fully awake now, Ororo got into bed and tried to get comfortable again. But Jean had turned the quilt over somehow, and no matter what Ororo tried, it just didn't feel the same.

--

A/N: Not the most groundbreaking of chapters, I know, but it lays a little foundation. Please, please review, reviews make me happy as banana chips!


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